Singing for Supper
by QuasiOuster
Summary: Otherwise known as how to improvise a costume in the apocalypse. Daryl and Michonne encounter some Halloween party high jinks at the prison. Dixonne AU (sorta).


_**Author's Note: I don't own any content of The Walking Dead, and no profit is involved in this project.**_

_**Here's a little holiday treat. Because it's a Halloween story, the timing is all mucked up season-wise. So it requires a little suspension of disbelief on the timing—it's either a mistimed pre-season 4, or post-season 5 if they were still chilling at the prison without super-flus and megalomaniacal douchebags messing things up for them. **_

_**I wrote this in about an hour and a half after having several exhausting weeks. So I hope you can appreciate accordingly and forgive any wonkiness. I actually have a longer Halloween story in mind, so we'll see if life let's me get around to that idea. **_

_**Thanks for reading!**_

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><p>The gathering had begun in earnest by the time Michonne and Daryl entered the room. They were sweaty and dusty from unpacking and storing supplies they'd retrieved from a nearby subdivision. As they paused to take in the surroundings, both displayed their characteristic nonchalance upon encountering the group members spread throughout the room.<p>

Someone had collected and displayed various accessories and instruments, enough to have a bona fide Halloween party. The children were dressed in garbage bags or pieces of cardboard boxes and burlap satchels. The adults had gotten in on the act as well, having added absurd flourishes to their usual outfits and fashioning hats out of bowls or other miscellaneous containers.

The two glanced at each other, sighed, and proceeded into the room.

"Oh no you two don't!" Beth called out to them before they could get past the first set of tables to the food. She wore her regular clothes, except she'd put on an apron and wore some sort of paper hat. Whether she was some kind of chef or a mangy pilgrim was anyone's guess. "There's a cover charge here. No costume, no party treats."

Daryl scowled at her. "You for real?" The steely glare Beth returned indicated her complete seriousness on the matter.

"The spare cell in C Block has the rest of the costume pickings. There's not much left, but I'm sure y'all can find something. So don't come back until you're appropriately festive." The entire time, Michonne looked back and forth between Daryl and Beth, waiting for a sign from him and probably wondering who would win in the battle of wills.

Daryl looked behind the young girl to gauge the reaction of the others—Carol's humor accompanied by a shrug, Rick's grin as he adjusted Judith's costume, Glenn's and Hershel's total surrender to the occasion, judging by the elaborateness of their get-ups. Shuffling in agitation, he threw another glance at the food on the table.

"Fine. I'll find some stupid shit to put on." Michonne watched him stomp out of the room and then turned back to Beth. The satisfied grin on her face made the older woman smile before following her surly companion out at a leisurely pace.

When Michonne caught up with Daryl at the referenced empty storage cell, he was digging through some scattered articles of clothing and cursing under his breath. Amused, she leaned against the wall just inside the entrance and tracked his irritation.

"Dumb holiday. They don't even know for sure it's Halloween. Don't know why we gotta go along with their stupid party just to get fed."

Michonne glided up behind him to check out the meager offerings and wrinkled her nose. There were a few random shirts, a long coat of some sort, a couple of scarves and miscellaneous accessories spread about the bed. She put her hand on Daryl's shoulder and felt him recoil before relaxing under the weight of her touch.

"Stop complaining. The sooner we figure it out, the sooner we get some dinner." He glared at her as if her reassurance had betrayed their united front. Picking up a makeshift belt and a plastic bag, he narrowed his eyes in disgust and then threw the items back down.

"Don't make no sense is all."

"Oh, you're just grumpy because you're hungry."

"Damn straight I'm hungry. We been workin' all day and now we can't eat until we put on some dumb crap and prance around with the rest of them fools." Michonne's smile grew the more petulant he became. She removed her hand and grabbed the blazer he'd picked up. She held it up to his chest as if sizing it for him and then placed it neatly back on the bed.

"Beth is just trying to give us all something else to focus on besides simply surviving. We've been doing okay for a while. Maybe it's time we start thinking about bringing back some things from the old world that we couldn't afford to hold onto before."

Daryl paused and considered her explanation. Nodding, he stood with his hands hanging off his hips, staring at the offending array of items.

"I get it. But I didn't care about this dumb holiday before everything went down, and I don't like I gotta care about it now."

Michonne cocked her head to the side, displaying her skepticism. "Really? Even when you were little? I find it hard to believe you _never_ cared. I'm sure there was at least one year when you wanted the perfect little boy costume so you could blend in with all the other kids." As she said this, she flicked his hair out of his eyes. She noted the defensive tension in them that confirmed her suspicions about his past.

Smiling softly, she added, "Maybe the little version of you wanted to get decked out in a devil costume with a cape and a pitchfork and two little red horns on your head." Her eyes lit up at the suggestion. "Or maybe a little Dixon robber, 'cause you sure as hell wouldn't be the cop."

Despite his sour mood, her ribbing brought a slight grin to his face that he quickly suppressed. "You best hush up 'bout all that and find us somethin' to wear so we can eat." She laughed and continued to pick through the costume items while he stood back and pouted. "'Sides, you're one to talk. Probably went door to door in some frilly princess outfit when you were a kid. You may look badass now, 'cept I know you was a straight up girly-girl come Halloween 'fore all this." Watching her rifle through the pile, Daryl finally came to stand beside her and put some stuff to the side, presumably items he found acceptable.

Michonne flashed him an enigmatic smile over her shoulder and shrugged but didn't answer him.

She straightened and turned to him, an intense look in her eye. "Anyway, maybe you wouldn't be so ravenous if you hadn't insisted on that little diversion before heading back in."

Stepping into his personal space, she sidled between him and the cot, letting her body slide against his. Instantly his hands were at her hips holding her there. His easily sparked enthusiasm seemed to embarrass him and he pulled back, but Michonne trapped his hands to secure them at their original spot. After she'd convinced him not to bolt, she moved her arms up to rest around his neck.

Their proximity brought a smolder to Daryl's expression despite his initial discomfort. He leaned into her until they were intimately face-to-face. "Don't be blamin' that on me. You were the one strippin' down to practically nothin' in there." He reached a hand around her hip to run a finger underneath the hem of her shirt. The touch tickled her and she scrunched her face in a chuckle that prompted a grin from him. "It's fall in Georgia not some tropical island. You must've been lookin' to play 'cause it aint _that_ hot."

Michonne closed her eyes in pleasure as he traced his fingers along her skin. "You better quit, Dixon." Her voice was tinged with laughter.

"Quit what?" he said, pushing down his smile to feign ignorance. He'd worked a couple more fingers underneath the fabric and caressed her bare back. His other hand remained at her hip, offering a squeeze.

Michonne laughed. "You're terrible." She leaned in and touched her lips to his, allowing him to express his passion for her in actions rather than words. Again, he didn't hesitate, wasting no time persuading her to allow him control over their contact. His tastes of her were practiced and lacking the uncertainty of those first few intimate embraces they'd shared so many months ago. He pulled away only to go in for more and didn't stop until she held him back with a soft palm to his cheek. It wouldn't do for them to get carried away with a roomful of people around the corner and their bellies still empty from the strenuous day—and their even more strenuous post-workday diversion.

Running a hand down his arm, she looked over his shoulder and then returned to staring into his gaze, so focused on her. The lust had receded from her expression, leaving only a mischievous twinkle.

"Nuh uh. I don't trust that look you're givin' me," Daryl said.

"Nothing for your to worry about. It's just that I thought of costumes for us."

"Must be a pretty good idea since there aint much anybody could do with this crap. That's why it got left here." He reached around her to pick up the top half of some ripped hospital scrubs, probably from the infirmary, and bit at his lip before flashing a shy grin. "Wouldn't mind seein' you as some kinda sexy doctor."

"Yeah?" Michonne said, intrigued.

"Hell yeah. And even if it aint what you had in mind, I can't imagine your plan bein' better than that." Michonne tugged a tuft of his hair hanging down the back of his neck. His hold on her involuntarily tightened as he yelped in protest, following it with a reluctant apology. She then ran her fingers through his tousled mop to sooth him.

"No, that wasn't what I had it mind. But it _is_ something that'll get us some dinner."

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><p>When they returned to the gathering, they strolled into the room as if it was the most normal thing in the world. The party remained in full swing, and it took a few minutes for anyone to take notice of them, so stealthy was their entrance. But when they did, it prompted an excited exclamation and a wave of attention before everyone broke out into laughter.<p>

Daryl grabbed a plate and with his head lowered over the buffet of food, it was easy to see the multicolored headband he'd tied around his head to hold back his hair. He'd shed his cut off shirt and wore just an undershirt with his vest fastened over it. And when he turned, his signature crossbow had been replaced by a sleek, sheathed katana strapped tightly across his back.

However, the crossbow wasn't far from him, similarly draped around Michonne as she reached for some sort of bean salad thrown together with items from the garden. At her hip dangled a long red handkerchief, most commonly seen tucked into the back pocket of the man standing next to her. She'd also swiped his cutoff shirt, except she'd tied it at the waist revealing a strip of her stomach at the bottom and a view of her tank top underneath; her vest hung open over it. With her headband gone, her hair hung loose and free, some of it falling into her eyes in a way that invited Daryl to push it back as she often did with him. The relaxed expressions on both their faces presented a stark contrast to their first appearance ten minutes before.

Beth stepped up to where the two were simultaneously loading up their plates and nibbling from the offerings already procured. She looked them up and down and then shook her head, a smirk lighting up her face as she took in their costumes. "Good job," she said and then wandered off. Daryl and Michonne went back to their grazing.

Taking a seat at the table, Michonne struggled to balance herself with the large crossbow throwing off her equilibrium. "Ugh, how do you maneuver with this thing?" She moved around trying to get comfortable before finally opting to take the weapon off and lay it at her side.

"That's how you do it," he answered, mouth full of food. "You take the damn thing off. When's the last time you seen me eat with that thing on?" She punched him lightly in the arm and dug into her own plate, her hair spilling around her shoulders.

Daryl reached across the table to grab a handful of popcorn from a large bowl and felt the end of the katana slam into Michonne's side.

"Watch it with that thing," she said. "And you better not put even a knick in it. I like it more than you," she joked.

"Don't have a hard time believin' that." He adjusted the sword, uncomfortable with the way it lay on him, and limited his movement. After a few tries, he got frustrated and took it off as well to rest next to where she'd placed his crossbow. "There, now you don't gotta worry."

She rolled her eyes and then threw a few of the crackers she'd grabbed by accident onto his plate. She hated the flavored ones, but he loved them. Daryl wasted no time popping one into his mouth whole and nudging her in the arm.

Even long after their meals were complete, Michonne and Daryl remained present at the celebration, Daryl in the thick of things and Michonne watching on in amusement from the periphery. Yes, the party was stupid, but it was also necessary. They both could feel that. And even if reluctant and imperfect, they'd be there for their people, through the rough patches and the ones that kept them grounded in their humanity. Moments like this.

Taking in Judith's excited squeals, Patrick's proud display of his homemade costume, and the ease with which everyone accepted this as normal, Daryl and Michonne's eyes met and they nodded, content to be home.

And later, Michonne made sure to grab the ripped up scrubs and an extra stethoscope from the infirmary so she and Daryl could continue with their own private celebration. Afterwards, Daryl admitted that maybe Halloween wasn't so dumb after all.

_Fini_


End file.
